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Saturday, 31 January 2015

She sells sea shells by the sea shore

My knees haven't been
too happy about the optimistic increase in weekly mileage the last
couple of weeks. They haven't been too happy about the wet, heavy
snow that has been causing a lot of headaches for the ones in charge
of plowing the streets and pavements. My knees aren't too big on
thinking positively. They don't see this as a wonderful opportunity
to get stronger, like I do. My knees are a couple of miserable, whiny old geezers and they want me to get off their lawn.
I can't help wondering how long before those two kick the bucket and
leave me to fend for myself.

As such, pain and its
implications have been on my mind a lot lately. Why we do what we do
even though it sometimes hurts. But more about that in another post.
Today, let's focus on the good stuff, and how I ran 23 km without my
knees firing any shots in my general direction. They just made some
empty threats. No big deal.

One of the other
runners in AIK suggested that we should run out towards the
sea. I was glad she did. I grew up by the sea, took my first steps on
a pebble beach and spent a lot of birthdays there as a child blowing
out candles quickly so that the sea breeze wouldn't get to them first.
If there is one thing I miss living in central Skellefteå, it is the sense of
serenity only a sea horizon can evoke.

Rocking the bell bottomed pants. Hey, it was the seventies. But that coat is to die for.

The way there was by
snow-heavy roads, framed by fir and pine trees. The conversation
flowed freely, aided by the fact that it was downhill most of the
way. Our goal destination was a summer house-lined bay, and once
we got there we could see that the water had, of course, frozen and
the sea was hidden under a layer of ice and snow. Still, at the
narrow mouth of the bay in the distance, you could almost make out
the point where the sea was too rough to let any ice form on it. Which is just as well, because otherwise it would be too easy for Finns to just walk over to Sweden and drink Swedes under the table.

We turned back the same
way we had come, which meant that we were now facing a long uphill
slope. My feet struggled to find purchase on the snow-covered road
and I seemed to slip backwards with every step that I took. We all
grew quiet, not wanting to waste precious energy on talking. That
was soon remedied, though, when we rounded the crest of the hill and
regained our strength. All that remained now was some easy kilometres
back to where we had started.

After I left my
teammates, I took the long way home. My knees started grumbling again, but I didn't let that deter me. I was just happy to
have another solid long run under my belt.